Because we are all Monks and our place of work is a seminary, our work a sacrament, our family a monastery, our home a sanctuary;
may we learn what they are teaching us without believing God is elsewhere...

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Listening To The Arias Of The Leaves

"Evening--new moon--snow hard crackling and squealing under my rubber boots. The dark pines over the hermitage. The graceful black fans and branches of the tall oaks between my field and the monastery. I said Compline and looked at the cold valley and tasted its peace. Who is entitled to such peace? I don't know. But I would be foolish to leave it for no reason."
Thomas Merton Journal VII

Late Winter Breeze Through Oak Trees

These old leaves stun and sound a gently rolling creek in their congregation’s susurrations over my lingering.

These tethered swaying were urgent once and fierce in their appetites for starlight;

now, dangling parchments sounding water arias-- ornaments of what become